Avenging Storm
by Penstorm
Summary: When Castle finds himself in the clutches of a dangerously obsessed fan, leaving wife Kate desperate for answers and the mystery novelist in a situation that has the potential to turn deadly, he soon realizes that his worst nightmare could quite possibly come true, and not even King himself can rid him of his misery. Set during season 7. Rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It was late, nearly eleven-thirty—far past the time that he had promised his wife. On top of everything, he was dead tired. All he wanted now was to inconspicuously crawl under the covers beside his love. That was all he needed to recover from the day he just had.

A long day of meeting, greeting, signing, and schmoozing—he could feel his feet giving out beneath him now, his entire body plagued with fatigue.

Castle shrugged out of his jacket, shimmying his arms out of the sleeves as he groggily shuffled in the direction of the master bedroom. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he blinked, catching a glimpse of his wife's sleeping form. She had her back to him, her side rising and falling with her steady breathing.

The man swallowed hard. Was this some sort of sign that she was upset with him? To be fair, he _had_ assured her that he would be home well before eight, but his book signing had unfortunately run late, as his readers simply refused to let him slip out without all of their books being properly signed, sealed, and delivered. And, maybe he shared some of the blame. He had simply lost track of time—an honest mistake.

But, after the years they had worked together and loved one another, he had learned that Kate would not readily accept this as an excuse.

Castle stripped down to his boxers, gliding his hands down his shirt and freeing the buttons. Quietly, he crept over to the bed, lifting up the covers and making an effort to slide underneath them unnoticed. The bed squeaked beneath his weight, shifting the mattress. This, however, was just enough to cause Kate to slowly begin to stir, instantly putting Castle on the defensive. If he was tender enough with her, offered her that apologetic, blue gaze of his, she would surely wind up happily tucked away in his arms. She could never manage to stay angry with him for long—that he knew.

Castle brought a hand to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he scooted closer, nudging up against her back. Lovingly, he leaned in to whisper to her, his soft breaths tickling her ear.

"Hey." he murmured, burrowing the tip of his nose in the wispy strands of her hair tucked behind her ear. Kate made a soft sound of acknowledgment, but she avoided turning over to face him, and Castle tried once more, persistent as ever. "Honey, I'm sorry. I went back on exactly what I promised you."

Kate gave a sigh. They had spent time together sparingly as of late, each of them entirely preoccupied with the demands of getting back to work at the precinct and, for Castle, working out the early framework of a novel he had been tossing around in his mind for the past several months. Kate supposed they would just have to learn to adjust, gradually bring themselves out of the so-called "honeymoon phase".

Slowly, Kate rolled over to glance his way, shooting her husband a glare. "You could have at least called."

"I know, I know." Castle insisted, placing his hands on either side of her face, giving her cheeks a soft, tender caress. "I'm sorry, hon. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

Kate shook her head with a grin, chuckling as her husband pulled her in for a kiss. She broke away a few seconds later, offering him a smirk.

"Well?" she said expectantly, raising her brows.

"'Well', what?" Castle queried, clearly puzzled.

"What do I get in return for your carelessness?" Kate challenged him, quirking a brow.

Her husband's eyes quickly grew dark and mischievous, swirling with lust. Kate drew a gasp as she felt a curious hand begin to become familiar with her form and curves, but her lips ultimately upturned in a seductive simper.

"Tell you what, Kate. Tomorrow night, it's just you and me." he whispered sweetly. "What do you say?"

"And the goddess." Kate concluded, her lips twitching as her smile pulled wider.

"Ooh." Castle murmured, booming with a laugh. "How could I forget?"

Their lips wound up locked together again, lust brewing in their midst.

* * *

Kate studied the murder board, her wedding ring glittering under the light as she twirled a marker between her fingers, her free hand planted on her hip. Castle was as equally focused, but not on the task at hand. No, he was far too engrossed in admiring the woman that was Katherine Beckett Castle.

Tonight, he would romance her—until she begged him for mercy. She was ready to be ravished, that he could easily deduce from her subtle but not so tame actions—the way she would glance back at him with that alluring air he knew so well; the manner in which she would chew thoughtfully at her lower lip as she mulled over evidence; the way she would toss her hair, knowing just how affected and captivated he was by every little thing she did.

All he had to do was wait for just a few more minutes, then the two of them could retire to their inviting bed—together. This brought a smile to his face; they would be going to bed together for the first time in at least a week, and it was a delightful prospect.

In the midst of his contemplation of the coming evening's activities, Castle started as his cell phone buzzed beside him, and he quickly grabbed it in his hand after discerning just who was trying to reach him—his agent.

"Talk to me, Paula." he said brightly, offering his wife a reassuring smile as she spun around, a perplexed but brazen expression cast upon her features, indicative of the beginnings of jealousy thrumming in her veins. She responded with a nod the moment she spotted the phone to his ear, turning back around to her analysis of the evidence on the board, her concerns assuaged.

"Rick," Paula sang, shrill into the author's ear. "I've got something for ya tonight."

Castle's face brightened, only to fall downtrodden not a second later, his smile fading. "Oh?" he muttered, darting his eyes to his—thankfully—otherwise occupied partner.

"You know that contest? You remember, right?" his agent began to explain, awaiting his response.

The man froze. "V-vaguely." he managed with uncertainty.

Truthfully, he remembered it all too well. Hordes of fans had entered this so-called "contest", all wanting to have their chance at winning a dinner with him, all based on the luck of the draw. Tonight, however, it appeared that _his _luck had run out.

"Well, we've got a winner. And tonight, you're dining with them. They're already in New York, I hear." Paula clarified, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.

Castle was, to say the least, not nearly as thrilled. Normally, he would revel in the chance to greet one of his loyal fans, to promote his novels and ultimately his success and credibility as a best-selling author. Plus, more often than not, these people would have the uncanny ability to stroke his ego, a guilty pleasure he was rather fond of. He wasn't proud of it, but he couldn't deny this trait he held at times.

"You still with me?" Paula queried.

"...y-yeah." Castle uttered hesitantly, swallowing as he glanced once more at his wife—still immersed in satisfying her ever-fervent yearning for justice, what she was perpetually starving for. He did admire her for that—just one of the countless reasons he adored her.

And now, he was being disloyal again, falling back on his old, rotten habits of unfaithfulness. This was the woman he loved, and going back on his word for the second time within the span of twenty-four hours was definitely not conducive to a healthy marriage, one which had been steadily thriving and growing since the very moment that they were wed. The last thing Castle wanted to do was plant tiny seeds of distrust between the two of them.

"Good." Paula replied, jabbering on. "Now, the dinner scheduled for seven-thirty tonight—"

"Hold on a second." Castle cut in, interrupting his agent mid-sentence. He inhaled a long, slow breath. "Don't you think this is just a little late notice, Paula?" he reasoned, lowering his voice and turning away to prevent Kate from growing wise. That was the _last _thing he needed right now as he tried to talk his way out of the precarious situation in which he had now found himself.

"What do you mean?" Paula asked. "You're always saying you want to find ways to promote the Nikki Heat series, especially now that you're hitched to her very image, her inspiration."

Castle was fighting a losing battle. His agent made a very valid point. But did he really want to share his wife any more than he had to? Keeping her all to himself was selfish, sure, but she _was _his partner, his muse—all _his. _

He shook himself out of his thoughts, pulling himself back into the realm of reality. There had to be a way out of this. He really didn't have a choice. Receiving the cold shoulder from Kate was not an option. He simply couldn't allow it.

"Yeah, I know." he admitted with a heavy sigh, bringing a hand to his forehead in his growing exasperation.

"Well, then, what's the problem?" the woman at the other end of the line cross-examined, and Castle could deduce by her rising tone of voice that she was growing tired of his shirking of his responsibilities as an esteemed author.

_If only you knew, _Castle thought to himself, digging his fingernails into his palms as he created a fist.

He was trapped.

"I-I...couldn't we do this some other time? I really don't—"

"Rick. No more excuses." Paula said firmly. "I'll send you a text with the details."  
The call was abruptly dropped, and Castle swallowed, allowing his phone to drop to his lap.

His wife was a reasonable, professional woman. She would understand, wouldn't she? He would have to do some massive bargaining and groveling, but he could manage. Nowadays, the majority of their weeknights were usually spent at home, strictly in the company of one another. No outings, not the conventional "date night", just enjoying a quiet evening on the couch with a little wine, and sometimes a little music, which nearly always led to something more—something just as passionate, nonetheless. Castle supposed it would be fair enough to break their month-old tradition for one night—just one Friday night.

Kate turned around, folding her arms and breathing a sigh. "I don't think we're gonna get anywhere with this tonight." she relented, approaching her husband, who attempted to put on an innocent aura. "I'm getting a little tired, babe. Wanna head home, call it a night?"

Castle avoided her eyes, darting his sheepish, blue orbs to the floor. "About that..." he muttered, and Kate allowed her arms to fall to her side.

"What?" she questioned, stepping forward and seeking out his guilty expression. "What is it?"

"Turns out I, uh," Castle explained, clearing his throat anxiously, "h-have a previous engagement that I neglected to take into consideration." He glanced up to meet her eyes, which flashed with a mix of hurt and anger. Instantly, Castle's heart clenched inside his chest.

Kate's arms wound up folded again as she furrowed her brow. "Rick, you gave your word. How many times are we going to do this?"  
"I'm sorry, honey." Castle insisted, rising quickly to his feet. "It's this last minute thing that Paula forced me into, Kate. You remember that contest thing I told you about, right? Well, tonight—"

"You know what? I don't wanna hear it." Kate snapped, raising her hands in the air and turning on her heels, turning her back on him in the process.

She strode across the bullpen with Castle on her heels, making her way over to her desk to retrieve her jacket. He was slurring his words in apologies hastily strung together in an attempt to make peace with his fuming wife, but she was having none of it.

"Kate, would you just listen to me?" he pleaded, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Look, tomorrow, I _promise _you—"

Kate abruptly came to a halt, swiveling around. "That's what you said last night, Castle." She continued on her way to her desk, shrugging Castle's hands off her shoulders as he began to help her into her jacket. "So, what now?"

"Kate, please." Castle moaned, his eyes purely apologetic and regretful as he focused on his wife's stern glare. "I promise, after dinner, I will make this up to you. Come on, you just need to trust me." His eyes softened, as did hers, but just meagerly. "Let me take you home." he offered, reaching up a hand to run his fingers briefly through her hair.

Kate hesitated, appearing as if she were finally making the decision to forgive and forget—just as her husband was hoping.

His heart sank at the words that accompanied her seemingly pacified demeanor.

"You know what? Just forget it. I think I'll take a cab." she said flatly, stepping aside and briskly leaving Castle behind, wallowing in his guilt.

Well, that had gone well, hadn't it?

"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you at home, then!" Castle called out after her, receiving nothing but a brief glance over a shoulder.

Castle stood awkwardly among his cohorts, turning as Esposito happened to pass by, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Smooth, bro. That was _real _smooth."

Castle's usual remark ended up faltering, for he was at a loss for words at the events that had just transpired.

It had been their first brawl as husband and wife—inevitable, but something he wished had never come to fruition.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Kate slid out of the backseat of the taxi, pressing a tip into the palm of the driver before stepping on to the curb and strutting rather self-assuredly into the building—a little too comfortable after all that had just happened between her and the man she loved.

She knew she had no reason to be satisfied; she had bitterly left her husband in her wake back at the precinct, and had really given him nothing less than the cold shoulder despite just a minor offense on his part. Perhaps she _had _been a little rash in the harshness with which she had treated him, but her frustration had gotten the best of her. She was naturally hot-blooded—always had been, always would be. As her estranged father-in-law had put it, she recalled, she was a spitfire. Yes, it had been rather blunt, but it was also entirely factual.

Still, she really needed to learn to control her emotions. Just years ago, she had been so stoic, so distant from her inner feelings, whether they be joyful or melancholic. She supposed Castle had changed her for the better, even in that respect.

Kate dug the key to the loft out of her pocket, inserting it into the lock and being warmly welcomed into her residence. She breathed a sigh as soon as she stepped over the threshold, relieving herself of the stress and tribulations of the day and leaving them behind her.

She glanced at the clock on the wall—about a quarter to seven. Time had a reputation of flying by when she was busy at work, especially with Castle at her side.

Now, she realized just how lonely home was without him, how much of a void was left in her heart now that it had settled in that she had, indeed, come home alone.

Kate figured she could easily expect him home within the next couple of hours. At least she had time to come up with a sufficient apology.

It hadn't been his fault—not at all. His profession came with its demands, just as hers did. Their argument had been petty, childish, but so completely like them. They never really had fierce altercations, never screamed and yelled at each other until their entire bodies were trembling and quivering with anger. They were too much in love with one another to put themselves through something so terrible.

That was it, she resolved. The moment Castle walked through that door, it would be a race to see who could manage to apologize first.

No, it would most certainly be her. He had apologized enough. There had really only been a need for one.

How could she not have seen that?

* * *

Castle scanned the restaurant, a sea of eyes locking with his. Several heads turned as they addressed the members of their party, making efforts to inconspicuously point in his direction. He regarded the patrons with a suave grin, charmingly offering them nods as they inspected him, their interest clearly piqued in the presence of such a public figure.

Naturally, the author couldn't keep his ego from swelling, and he made the subtlest of adjustments to his posture, puffing out his chest as he continued to search for the person with whom he would be dining this evening.

A waiter with a rather harried countenance, juggling a collection of platters along his arms, soon approached him. "Mr. Castle?" he spoke, addressing Castle in a manner that easily illustrated that he was a fan. "It's a pleasure, sir. You wouldn't happen to be looking for someone, would you?"

Castle smiled warmly. "It just so happens that I am. Could you point me in his or her direction?"

"Of course." the waiter replied, gesturing with his head to the back of the dining room. _"She _is sitting right over there."

Castle followed the waiter's gaze to where the woman was seated. She appeared to be modest in nature, casually sipping her glass of wine, her rouge lips just barely brushing against the rim as she surveyed her surroundings. She was of lithe build, her platinum blonde hair, styled in ringlets at the sides and settling just upon her shoulders, delicately coiffed in a loose bun.

There was no denying it, she was an attractive woman, youthful but dignified. Castle cleared his throat, nodding at the waiter before beginning his trek toward their table.

The woman's head turned as he approached, and she offered him a captivated smile.  
"Room for one more?" Castle asked, summoning his inherent charm. It definitely wasn't a difficult task for him.

"It's really you." his companion murmured in awe, her green eyes, noticeably adorned with flecks of blue, widening to a nearly unbelievable circumference.

"It is, indeed." Castle concurred, reaching out for his hand. "Richard Castle. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

"Durand, Becca Durand." the woman clarified, her face lifting with an even brighter smile.

"Well, it's an honor to meet you, Ms. Durand." Castle said cordially, taking a seat across from her.

"Oh, please, Mr. Castle, Just call me 'Becca'." Becca said, lifting her wine glass and giving the liquid a swirl, balancing the base in between her index and middle fingers. "This all just seems so—so surreal. You know what I mean?"

"I felt the same way the first time I met Stephen King." Castle mused, perusing over the menu in front of him. "So, Becca, tell me your life story."

Becca's gaze raised to meet his, incredulous. "R-really? Oh, well, I wouldn't say I'm all that special, Mr. Castle." she mumbled, her cheeks flushing with a slight, scarlet hue. "I-I guess you should know that I've been a fan of yours for—well, for quite some time."

"I'm flattered." Castle replied, raising his glass as it was filled with wine by a passing waiter. "So, I have to ask. What's your favorite book?"

"Oh, God, you can't ask me that. You can't really expect me to choose, I mean, out of so many of your _fantastic _novels." Becca rambled, her face gaining a thoughtful expression. "I guess if I _had _to choose—well, all of the Derrick Storm books." Becca's smile quickly grew sheepish at the sight of Castle's reaction.

"Really?" he mused, his eyebrows raising with enthrallment, though beneath his exterior, he was humbled. "Normally, my readers lean more toward the Nikki Heat spectrum."

Becca's face instantly turned sour, and she shook her head, taking a swig of her wine. "No, no. I much prefer your early work. "Personally, I could do without Nikki altogether."

Castle awkwardly strummed his fingertips against the table, at a loss for words after Becca's blunt reveal of her honest opinion. Perhaps he was biased with his explicit fondness for Nikki. After all, he was married to her real-world counterpart. Nikki Heat wasn't going anywhere, not as long as he had any say in the matter. And she was his very own brainchild, after all, completely under his control.

"I don't know," Becca spoke, "Nikki doesn't do anything for me. Derrick, on the other hand..." She trailed off, sporting a goofy smile. "Anyway, look at me, hogging the conversation. What about you? Besides writing, what are your hobbies, Mr. Castle?"

Castle righted himself, naturally perking up as his love entered his thoughts. It was a habit of his. "I spend most of my time working with the NYPD with my wife." he explained. "I've been doing that for about six years now."

"Ah, Detective Kate Beckett—the inspiration for the infamous Nikki Heat." Becca surmised, nodding halfheartedly. Her voice had lost its enthusiasm and giddiness, as it had possessed just a moment before.

"You've noticed?" Castle said with a chuckle.

"I've done my research," Becca mentioned vaguely, shrugging. "Besides, it's hard not to, Mr. Castle. All of the novels are dedicated to her. You'd have to be either blind or a complete moron not to see what you two have." she elaborated, nonchalantly shifting her glass to her opposite hand. "Honestly, I've always been curious about this Detective Beckett."

"Curious?" Castle echoed, puzzled, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah. She must be a pretty damn good cop," Becca muttered, "among other things."

"Wait a second. What exactly do you mean?" Castle inquired further, cocking his head slightly in his puzzlement.

"Oh, come on. You could have any woman you want. Your past record practically speaks for itself. What makes Kate Beckett stand above the rest? That's what I'd like to know."

Castle paused. He could scarcely believe a casual conversation over his novels turned into something so heartfelt so quickly. What _did _make his Kate so exceptional in his eyes, and not to mention the eyes of so many others? He supposed that she made him want to strive for something more, be as great a man as she thought him to be. She was all he could possibly ask for in a woman—intelligent, personable, deeply passionate in every aspect of her life, whether it be regarding her job or the love and intimate relationship they shared with one another. Their relationship was so dear to him, so much so that he, more often than not, was unwilling to speak of it openly. The connection and bond that they shared was sacred to him, and it was private.

And so, Castle shrugged. He didn't have to defend or explain his convictions to anyone, especially not a woman who was more or less a perfect stranger.

"Well, whoever she is, I'm sure she's nowhere near deserving of you." Becca professed, straightening her posture as their waitress approached the table, drawing a notepad out of her back pocket.

"Well, I-I wouldn't say that..." Castle muttered, inconspicuously sliding his hand inside his jacket and running his fingers over the cover of the novel hidden within.

A sumptuously bound, signed copy of _Raging Heat, _the latest addition to the Nikki Heat series, would normally be every fan's dream, received with showers of gratitude and immense delight. This time, however, Castle decided against revealing this gift to his dinner companion, hoping to avoid any possible repercussions that could be garnered from the beseeching of this particular book.

It was Nikki Heat, for God's sake—what wasn't to like?

"And for you, sir?"

Castle's eyes darted upward in response to being addressed, and he caught a glimpse of the waitress gazing expectantly at him, obviously awaiting his request for dinner.

"Oh, yes." he replied, plucking his menu from the table and rapidly perusing over the contents. "I'll have the grilled salmon."

"Wonderful, sir." the waitress confirmed with a nod, collecting the menus and tucking them under her arm. "I'll have that right out for you. In the meantime, can I interest you in any more wine—perhaps champagne?"

Castle paused, collecting his string of thoughts. _This is not a date. _

"That would be great. Thank you." Becca replied almost instantly, briefly offering Castle a smile. "It's on me, Richard."

Castle matched her smile, a bit puzzled but completely complacent. Who was he to turn down a glass of champagne so graciously offered by his dining partner?

Becca turned back to face him as their waitress left their midst. "Oh, I'm sorry. You don't mind if I call you by your first name, do you?"

"Of course not." Castle said with a grin. "Hell, call me 'Rick'."

Becca's face lit up, and she raised her glass, clanging it to his as they made a toast.

* * *

Kate maneuvered through the kitchen, shuffling in her house slippers and robe, making a stop at the waste bin to toss the empty containers of Chinese takeout into the trash.

It was nearing nine—still no word from her husband. She wasn't _worried, _per se, but she still had that sick feeling looming in the pit of her stomach, as she always had whenever there was the potential for her husband to converse or spend time with another woman.

Wait just a minute. She was jumping to conclusions, wasn't she? After all, she had no clue who Castle was with this particular evening. His companion didn't necessarily have to be of the female gender, did it? But, it probably was. As Richard Castle's wife, Kate was not unaccustomed to the sight of his female fans ogling him and throwing themselves over him, and, on more than one occasion, she had overheard one of the women inquiring on whether or not Castle would be willing to sign any cleavage.

As Kate retired to the sofa, she emitted a soft sigh, plopping down and reclining against the pillows. Her phone lay dormant on the coffee table, and an unseen, overwhelming force drew her to the device, taking it in her hands and selecting Castle's number from her speed dial. She brought the phone to her ear, and it began to ring—once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, she reached her husband's voicemail.

"Hello, you've reached Richard Castle. I can't take your call right now, so leave me a message."

"Hey, Rick, it's me. Listen, um—well, I was just wondering when you would be getting home. It's about nine o' clock right now. If you could call me as soon as you get this message, that would be great. Okay, then. I love you. Bye."

Kate ended the call, turning her phone over in her hands for a moment with a concerned, furrowed brow.

* * *

"So, that's my tale of woe." Castle spoke, swirling the clear liquid in his glass before tossing back the final drops. "Just goes to show you how much hell you can be put through before you're actually published."

"Well, anyone who couldn't see your talent is _crazy." _Becca agreed, mimicking her companion as she took a final swig of her champagne. "I'm interested to hear some more of your stories—or, _tales of woe." _she added, hooking her fingers in air quotes. "Whichever."

"I'm not boring you?" Castle chuckled, grinning as Becca shook her head in affirmation.

"More wine?" she offered, gingerly lifting the bottle in her hands.

"Don't mind if I do." Castle said cheerfully, raising his glass as she refilled it.

He slid his hand into his pocket, withdrawing his phone and bringing it to life. The screen read 9:38. Time had certainly flown by. He had been out for over two hours.

Castle's heart suddenly skipped a beat as his eyes skirted to the middle of the screen. It informed him that he currently had two missed calls—both from Kate. He swallowed hard, glancing up at Becca, who was gently setting the bottle of wine back on the table after filling her glass.

"Something wrong?" she queried, inquisitively furrowing her brow.

"Nope, it's nothing. I just gotta make a run to the restroom." Castle assured her, rising to his feet and pushing his empty plate to the center of the table. "I'll be right back."

Becca offered him a nod, her eyes following him as he made his way through the maze of tables. Castle soon arrived at a more secluded area, unlocking his phone and hastily initiating a call.

Kate would be furious with him. No, more than furious. She would be pissed. Castle groaned as the phone began to ring, unable to fathom the possibilities of what awaited him. This could mean no sex for a good week, maybe even longer. His wife could be quite the expert at holding grudges, if her past record was any indication.

But it was more than just that. He had hurt her—more than once, in fact—and that was inexcusable. His behavior had been utterly careless within the past couple of days, and he was now determined, above everything else, to prove to her that he adored her just as much as he let on, even though he had done a lousy job of doing so as of late.

Castle's heart lifted at the sound of her voice, only to come crashing down at the realization that it was only her voicemail. Either her phone was turned off, or she was simply ignoring him. He cut the connection and frantically tried again, gaining the same result for a second time.

"Damn it," he swore under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket and pacing back and forth in his steadily manifesting anxiety.

Defeated, Castle dejectedly made his way back to his table, forcing a smile and settling back down into his seat. He spotted the inviting glass of wine that awaited him on the table, perked up ever so slightly. With the eagerness of a child, he picked up the glass.

"Cheers," he muttered, taking a long sip, allowing it to linger in his throat for a moment before swallowing, the pleasant, unhinged tang of the wine suffusing in his veins and bringing him out of his blues.

"Is there a problem?" Becca inquired, also taking a sip of her wine.

"Not yet, but there will be." Castle stated matter-of-factly, finishing off what was left in his glass at an expedient rate. "Never mind. Has the check come yet?"

"It should be here any minute." his companion replied, gesturing with a hand as their waitress retreated over to their table from serving another, placing the check in front of them.

"Take as long as you need, folks. I'll be back in a few minutes." she said in a breath before scurrying off to another table.

"At least allow me to take care of the champagne." Becca insisted, sliding the check across to her side of the table. Castle made an attempt to object, but she raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "I know I won the right to have dinner with you, but it will make me feel better. Please?"

"I suppose that's fine." Castle allowed with a smile. "Thank you."

The woman paused for a moment, her countenance filled with an emotion that Castle found to be utterly indecipherable. Was it loving? Out of admiration? There was clearly something there, but he couldn't quite place it.

She spoke again, calm, soothing, but there was something a bit unsettling in her tone.

"Don't mention it, Rick. It was a _pleasure."_

* * *

Castle trailed groggily behind Becca, hazy and thoroughly disoriented, as if he were weighed down by some unseen but overwhelming force. His head was swimming with a growing dizziness, his breaths light and shallow, as if he had covered a great distance.

He hadn't really had _that _much to drink, had he? Just a few glasses of wine and a little champagne, nothing he couldn't handle. The loft was just a couple of blocks away, a simple feat. Moments ago, he had felt perfect clarity, but now, everything was fuzzy, the edges of his mind blurring with a feeling of impending unconsciousness.

Was it something he had eaten? The salmon had been decadent, thoroughly cooked and rich with flavor. Besides, this restaurant had a reputation for fine food and exemplary service. He found it hard to believe that something amiss had gone on in the kitchen.  
As Castle trudged along, his energy and stability rapidly deteriorating, Becca spun around, a perpetual smile plastered upon her face.

"Well, I guess this is...Rick? Mr. Castle! Are you alright? Oh, God, what's wrong?"

Castle sensed himself beginning to drift off, the fuzzy image of the woman that had caught his fall ingrained in his mind.

* * *

Kate walked briskly into the restaurant, stormily on edge and prepared to unleash her fury upon anyone who had the moxie to get in her way.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're closing now." a lone waiter piped up, glancing up from the task at hand of clearing tables and walking over to meet her. He sported a small name tag that read 'OLIVER'.

"Yeah, I know," Kate paused, squinting at the tag, "Oliver. I'm just looking for someone." she explained, scanning her eyes through the restaurant. "My husband was here earlier tonight."

"The last of our patrons left about a half an hour ago." Oliver informed her, his expression growing concerned as this woman before him flashed as pale as a ghost.

Kate froze in her stance, her eyes filled with confusion and a subtle betrayal. "Wh-what?"

"I could check the system for you, if you would like—"

"Yes." Kate hastily interjected, scarcely able to speak, a massive lump lodged in her throat.

The waiter gave a swift nod, collecting the rest of the dishes from the table and beckoning Kate to follow him. As he arrived at the door to the kitchen, he signaled for her to wait.

"Just a moment."

The man disappeared into the back, and it was all Kate could do to keep from breaking down, tears stinging in her eyes.

No, she had to pull herself together. There were plenty of logical explanations as to why her husband was missing in action—none of them having to do with infidelity.

Oliver reappeared momentarily, stepping up to the nearby register.

"All right. And what's the name?"

"R-Richard Castle." Kate stammered weakly.

"Ah, that's right. I heard through the grapevine that he'd be here tonight. You must be Kate Beckett." the young man guessed with a slight smile.

Kate, too, managed a faint smile. It seemed funny to her, just how well-known she could become, just by marrying that man.

"That's me," she confirmed.

Oliver turned back to the screen. "Let's see. Oh, here it is. Table sixteen, paid by charge account, reserved under the name...Becca Durand."

Kate's heart clenched painfully in her chest, her knees going weak beneath her, as if they would buckle at any moment. So _that _had been the situation, the one that was leading her world to come crumbling down.

"Th-thank you." she whispered, ducking her head to stare at the floor.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, ma'am?" Oliver offered, his expression growing sympathetic and knowing.

"No," Kate said quickly, turning rapidly on her heels and beginning to make her way toward the door.

There was nothing at all that could alleviate the heartache she was now experiencing.

* * *

_Now, obviously, this is based upon the storyline of _Misery, _but never fear, it will be much tamer.__  
_

_Thank you for reading, and stay tuned!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Kate staggered out of the elevator, finally being lifted up to the floor she had chosen as her destination. She was completely exhausted and bedraggled after all that had occurred within just the past fifteen minutes.

In addition to the numerous, desperate calls she had made to her husband, to which she had received no response, Kate made several calls to other parties during the ride back to work—to Gates, to Ryan and Esposito, to Lanie, who all had pledged their support in the investigation that Kate had declared. She had yet to summon up the courage to call her mother-in-law or step-daughter, although in retrospect, Martha and Alexis should have been the first two people she notified. Martha. But what could she possibly say to them? 'Oh, by the way, my husband—your son and your father, respectively—is missing in action, his fate currently unknown'?

No. That wouldn't even begin to suffice.

Despite what the waiter at the restaurant may have suspected, or what he had implied, Kate was entirely certain that her husband was completely faithful to her, that their marriage was sacred and that neither of them would ever cross the line into infidelity. There had been some initial doubt, especially when that woman's name—Becca Durand, the recalled, as that was a detail of the utmost importance—had first rung in her ears, reverberating with a painful echo. But now, she knew she had been acting completely irrationally. Her thoughts had been muddled with jealousy and confusion, with anger and with distress. She still felt all of these emotions, but all of her anger was now directed toward the mystery woman who had evidently managed to take her husband captive. There was no other explanation. Castle was entirely loyal to her and their relationship—of that, Kate was sure.

Now that everything had settled in, she was only focused on one thing: bringing Castle back home. That was her sole priority now, and she would see it through to the end, at any and all costs.

Esposito and Ryan were immediately closing in on her, cups of coffee in hand. In his opposite hand, Ryan carried an extra, offering it to Kate. She managed a tired smile, accepting the mug and cradling it in her hands. She took a hearty sip, the caffeine suffusing in her veins and bringing her out of her stupor. It lacked the taste she was so fond of, and it was then that she realized that she was already missing Castle's ever-present cup of coffee.

"We're gonna get to the bottom of this, Beckett." Esposito assured her, offering Kate a supportive smile.

"That's right. We'll find Castle, don't you worry." Ryan concurred with a nod, glancing to his partner. "What would you like us to start off with?"

"Let's start by running this 'Becca Durand' through the system—see if she's got a record." Kate ordered, bringing the rim of her mug up to her lips and nursing the piping hot liquid.

"On it, boss." Esposito affirmed, waving for Ryan to follow him as they strode away from her.

Kate made a habitual retreat to her desk, slowly sinking down into her chair. She brought her mug up to her mouth, curling her lips over the rim and taking another slow sip. She would definitely need all the caffeine she could ingest tonight. Kate certainly didn't count on going home for the night knowing that the man who always accompanied her to bed every night, the man she loved unfailingly, could possibly be in grave danger. She would never be able to sleep under the circumstances, anyway.

Kate vaguely registered someone entering her presence, and she glanced up, meeting Gates' eyes as the woman took a seat in the chair Castle normally occupied.

"Detective Beckett," Gates began, pausing a second later, as if she were unable to gather the appropriate words for this situation. "Detective Beckett, why don't you go home for the night and get some sleep? We can start fresh in the morning."

"No." Kate said firmly, a faint amount of raw emotion present in her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm not going anywhere, sir."

"That's exactly what Detectives Ryan and Esposito said, as well as Dr. Parish." Gates mused proudly, her rouge lips curving into a smile.

Kate donned a smile as well, touched at the amount of respect and fondness her colleagues had for her husband. This brought her a meager amount of comfort. Castle was surely in good hands.

Gates nodded in affirmation before she rose to her feet, offering Kate a final, supportive gaze over her shoulder before stepping out, off to carry out her own contributions to this case, no doubt.

The detective, sickened with her worry, also stood a moment later, retiring to the breakroom for a refill of coffee.

* * *

Kate exhaled unsteadily as she brought the tip of the marker to the board, her hand trembling as she carried out the deeply troubling process of inscribing her love's name with the writing implement. She never wanted to have to do this, but the day had come, and in order to find answers, it had to be done. From the day they were wed, they had vowed to be faithful and loyal to one another, and Kate had no intention of shirking her duty of doing so. Right now, wherever he was, her husband counted on her—now more than ever.

She sensed her heart begin to beat unsteadily, as if it were unsure, carrying on with trepidation. The blood flowing through her veins felt thick and slow, as if it had the consistency of molasses, and she came to stand in a frozen posture, her face expressionless. Kate could tell that she was slowly beginning to unravel, beginning to lose both control over her emotions and her composure. She sniffed, quickly reaching up a hand to brush a tear from her eye before it had the chance to continue on its journey down her cheek.

As Kate continued to make failing attempts to gather herself, a hand came to rest upon her shoulder, and she swiftly turned, coming face to face with Lanie. Her friend was visibly concerned, her rich, ebony eyes drilling into Kate's tearful, amber ones.

"Honey. Come here." Lanie murmured succinctly, collecting Kate in a warm embrace.

"God, what're we gonna do, Lanie? _What_ are we gonna do?" Kate whispered tearfully, her voice quavering with sorrow.

Lanie hugged her tighter. "We're gonna do what we do best, Kate—catch the son of a bitch responsible for this."

"We know who it is, Lanie." Kate replied, and the woman holding her started, breaking their connection.

"Spill it." she urged, giving Kate's arms a squeeze.

"Becca Durand. Espo and Ryan are checking it out." Kate elaborated, a soft hiccup escaping her lips as a side effect of her crying.

"A _woman?" _Lanie remarked. "Kate, you don't think—"

"_No." _Kate interjected, her tone of voice cold and stern. "No." she repeated, her eyes softening. "I trust him, Lanie. You don't know him like I do. He would never do that to me."

Lanie's expression reformed from shocked to knowing, and she managed the gentlest of smiles, offering Kate a nod.

"If you need _anything, _anything at all, don't hesitate to ask, Kate." Lanie said, faithfully clutching Kate's hands in hers for a moment before taking a step back.

"Thank you." Kate whispered sincerely, directing her gaze behind her friend as Esposito poked his head through the doorway.

"Beckett." he called, beckoning for the detective to follow him.

Kate hugged Lanie a final time before she responded to her colleague's request, accompanying Esposito in order to deliberate with Ryan in the briefing room.

"So, we ran Becca Durand through the system," Ryan informed her as the three detectives gathered in a congregation.

"And?" Kate pressed.

"We got nothin'." Esposito joined in, crossing his arms over his chest.

"She probably used an alias." Kate theorized with a huff. "She knew exactly what she was doing, and she wanted to make sure she could get away with it."

"And we couldn't get a hold of anyone at the restaurant at this hour. We can try to run the credit card number to see whose name it's under."

"No, she didn't pay for the dinner, she entered some _stupid _contest and won it." Kate muttered, groaning under her breath.

"Detective Beckett?" Gates called out.

Kate turned in the direction of her voice, spotting Gates crossing the bullpen alongside a visitor sporting thick-rimmed glasses, a young man scarcely over the age of twenty, it looked like.

"There's a visitor for you," Gates informed, "a young man who would like to offer his services, it appears."

Kate recognized said visitor instantly. "Oliver?"

"Yeah, hi, Detective." Oliver stammered, fumbling with the plastic Ziplock bag he carried in his hands. "I have something for you."

He handed the bag over to Kate, who intently studied the contents. Sealed inside the bag was an unassuming, empty wine glass.

"That's from the table where your husband was seated. Only one side of the table was still set, oddly enough." Oliver explained. "I thought this all seemed kinda weird, so I thought I would bring it to you."

"This has to have been Castle's glass. She must have swiped whatever was hers from the table before she left." Kate thought aloud. "She really didn't want to leave any trace behind. Did you find any wine bottle left behind, anything that could have prints on it?"

Oliver shook his head. "All of the glass is recycled. There was an extra bottle of champagne on the bill, but it was paid for with cash."  
"Of course it was." Kate muttered under her breath. "Looks like she'd been planning this for a while."

"I'm sorry I can't do more for you." Oliver lamented, darting his eyes to the floor. "I-I really do enjoy Mr. Castle's novels." He took a moment to adjust his glasses, flashing a boyish grin.

"No, Oliver. You've been very helpful." Kate replied, offering a smile to the young man, whose face brightened slightly. "I'm going to hand this over to Lanie and see if she can run some tests."

She offered a nod to the young man, illustrating her deep amount of gratitude before scurrying off in search of the medical examiner, who had undoubtedly returned to her post in the morgue.

There was no way Castle had gone willingly with this woman, nor could he have been persuaded to do so. Kate suspected he had somehow been overtaken somehow, mostly likely been drugged. Whatever the case may be, Lanie was the sole person she could turn to, for this sort of thing was her specialty.

* * *

The wait was agonizing, doing no favors for the impatient detective who had been anxiously pacing the halls of the precinct, but at last, she received a text from the ME, inviting her down to the lab.

Lanie greeted Kate warmly despite her noticeable fatigue, leaning against the wall for support while masking a yawn with her hand. Kate could only smile in empathy.

"Thank you, Lanie...for staying with me through all this." the detective expressed gratefully. "I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

"Think nothing of it, Kate," Lanie said, offering a modest smile. "All in a day's work." She paused for a moment to glance drowsily up at the clock on the wall, squinting to read the clock, which tauntingly read a quarter past twelve. "Or night, morning, whatever the _hell _time it is." Lanie turned her attention from the clock on the wall to the glass she held in her gloved hand. "Anyway, as I examined the glass closer, I noticed a slight residue at the bottom."

Lanie unexpectedly stopped short, and silence sliced through the lab. Kate met her eyes, desperate for more information.

"And?" she pressed.

Lanie released a sigh. "Hon, before I keep going, I need you to promise me you'll stay calm."

Kate furrowed her brow, puzzled and taken aback. All at once, her stomach twisted with a queasy feeling, working itself into knots. The sense of foreboding she now felt was unlike anything she had experienced before.

She struggled to find her words, so she simply nodded slowly in agreement, forcing down a massive lump that had found itself lodged in her throat.

"Well, Kate, about the residue in the glass..." Lanie confessed, hesitation brimming in her voice. "It was from a drug, sweetie."

Kate's expression quickly turned into a void, lacking any sign of emotion or indication of her inner thoughts. After a moment, she inhaled unsteadily, her breathing raspy and choked.

"Wh-what...what sort of drug?" she ventured weakly, not entirely sure if she could handle all of what Lanie had to reveal to her.

The ME appeared to be even more hesitant to continue. It was as if the breath had been taken from her, rendering her unable to form coherent words.

"Lanie?" Kate persisted anxiously. "Lanie!"

"Kate, the drug Castle's drink was spiked with was Rohypnol." Lanie murmured, her voice falling low, barely louder than a whisper. "It was crushed down and dissolved into his drink."

A jolt of fear struck Kate like a bolt of lightning. Rohypnol? She was certain she had heard that somewhere before, and an ominous cloud soon formed over her, looming along with her in the depths of her despair.

Kate swallowed, giving Lanie a nonverbal cue to continue.

"Rohypnol is particularly strong when combined with alcohol."

As soon as these words left her lips, the ME was sure she would regret putting this information so bluntly. Kate, she could see, was rapidly choking up with emotion. Normally, such a statement would be followed up with further interrogation, but the detective was now utterly incapable of doing so.

Kate's breathing became labored, her already tear-stained eyes expeditiously pooling with a fresh supply of moisture. "What are you trying to tell me, Lanie?" she asked tearfully, hastily swiping beneath her eye with her hand. "Are you saying that there's a possibility that Rick is—"

No. She couldn't say it.

"Hey, hey." Lanie urged gently. "Calm down, calm down. Listen to me, Kate. All I'm saying is that the dose that's in Castle's system could easily cause memory impairment." She held up a hand, halting Kate before she could continue. "I'm not finished yet. You have to remember that this woman, if she had been planning this, wouldn't have administered Castle enough of the drug to be fatal."

Kate paused to collect her breath, turning away from Lanie as she made an ill-fated attempt to gather up her composure. Really, Lanie should have expected no less from her. Any situation involving her husband's safety and well-being would naturally drag these irrational worries and lamentations out of her with absolutely no hesitation.

But, Lanie was correct. If this "Becca" was truly obsessed with Castle, as the evidence suggested, there would be no reason for her to murder him, at least not without getting something in return. No, there was still a very great deal of hope to have, and there was a good chance—an overwhelming chance—that her husband was safe and unharmed. At least Kate could take slight comfort in the fact that whoever was currently holding her love captive obviously held strong feelings for him, just as she did.

This revelation did little, however, to console her or assuage her fears.

* * *

Castle slowly realized himself coming to, his lids heavy but making the effort to raise. At last, he succeeded in doing so, glancing groggily about the room he was in.

The room was dark, only illuminated by the natural light peeking sparsely through the thick, drawn curtains. He was likely in some sort of spare bedroom, but there was a noticeable lack of furniture and adornments on the walls, depriving the room of that comfortable, cozy feel a typical home usually possessed.

Castle made an attempt to shift in his seat, but he found himself unable to budge, his hands and ankles tied snugly to the arms and legs of the chair. As he initiated a futile effort to turn around, only then did he take note of his pounding head, suffering from a splitting headache.

Confused and dazed, he desperately tried to gather any memories of what had happened during the past hours. He vaguely recalled dining in the restaurant, but even that was fuzzy. Anything that had occurred after that was a blur.

_Come on, remember! _

He deduced that he had been here—wherever "here" was—for quite some time. His back was stiffened from his posture in the chair, and his mouth was parched with an extreme thirst.

_Wait. That's it._

He started feeling woozy after having that last glass of wine. That had to have been the cause of everything—why he remembered nothing, why he was still suffering from lingering grogginess, his mind still a disoriented haze.

Castle's heart began to involuntarily pound at the revelation that followed, the epiphany that suddenly crashed down upon him.

It was _her._

Footsteps soon sounded in approach, and Castle felt his palms growing clammy, his heart practically hammering out of his chest. A shadow appeared underneath the crack between the door and the floor—lithe, outwardly gentle, but menacing all the same. Steadily, the door creaked open, and a head, eerily seeming to float, emerged through the opening. Platinum blonde hair shone under the light flooding in from the hallway.

A chill raced up Castle's spine at the words that followed.

"Oh, Richard." a voice crooned, barely audible and sickly sweet. "You're finally awake."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Castle sat motionless for what seemed to him like an eternity, his muscles completely frozen and locked in place. The tension in his body weighed him down to the point at which he felt he would never again be mobile.

He swallowed, the aridity of his throat causing him discomfort. Being unable to form any words, he simply allowed his mouth to fall open, and he flinched involuntarily as Becca gave the door a push further, sending it swinging open.

"There's no need to be so jumpy." she coaxed gently, stepping gracefully over the threshold and slamming the door shut again with her back.

_Jumpy? Jumpy is the understatement of the century. This isn't jumpy. This is terrified. _

Becca carried a tray in her hands, and Castle's nose soon awakened, a pleasant scent wafting through the surrounding air and eventually finding its way to his midst. It was indicative of a light, rich flavor. In the darkness, however, he could barely make out the outline of Becca's body as she began creeping closer and closer, and this alone caused his heart to hammer away inside of him. He had no earthly idea of what level of the spectrum of lunacy she really was, and this made him incredibly uneasy.

"U-u-um," Castle stuttered, barely audible, "c-could...do you think we could get some light in here? Would that be all right?"

A silence sliced through the room, cutting into Castle like a dagger. God, he prayed he hadn't crossed a line. She may very well be completely unpredictable—and insane. After all, she had kidnapped a world-renowned, best-selling author. This scenario he found himself in could be quite perilous if he neglected to tread carefully. Ms. Becca Durand was either his most devoted fan or his most eccentric fan.

_No. _She _isn't my most devoted fan. _Castle's mouth twitched with a smile, and he was thankful that Becca was unable to ascertain his facial features. _Kate is._

Castle's smile was instantly wiped off his face. _Oh, God, Kate._

His wife—how was she reacting to all of this? He could only imagine. Although he never wished her to suffer pain, Castle hoped she was feeling distraught rather than enraged. Kate Castle's wrath was something he _always _strove to avoid at all costs.

Castle was snapped out of his inner reflections by the sound of Becca's voice, surprisingly placid.

"Don't you need to get some sleep, Richard?" Becca inquired softly, disapproval surfacing in her melodic voice.

Before he could speak, Castle sensed his lap suffusing with warmth, and it was then that he realized that Becca had placed the tray she had been carrying in his lap. He felt her presence looming uncomfortably close to him, and he couldn't help but jump as he felt her soft palm drape over the back of his hand, which broke out in a clammy sweat, nearly trembling.

"You're shaking." she observed, the disapproval now switching over to concern.

"Y-yeah, I'm just..."

_...freaking out a little bit here._

"I'm just feeling a little bit woozy." he bluffed, gulping down his fear.

Becca hummed with concern, as if regarding him with a pity. Castle felt a cold hand caress his face, and he exhaled unsteadily as the hand glided upwards, coming to a halt a his forehead.

"That food poisoning has taken a toll on you, Richard."

_Food poisoning, a likely story. Wouldn't you like for me to believe that? _

Castle heard Becca click her tongue, withdrawing her hand from his forehead.

"Eat." she ordered, firm but gentle. "It'll ease your stomach."

The man hesitated. "Th-thank you, Becca, but I'm really not hungry." he replied.

"But it's been hours since you've eaten." Becca insisted.

_Hours, huh? _

Castle chuckled nervously. "Y-yes, well, I guess you could say that I'm on a diet of sorts?" he offered.

He received a lack of response from Becca, and so he went for an effort to please her—at least in some way.

"I-I could use a glass of water, though." he murmured, attempting to seek out her eyes.

"Anything for you, Richard." Becca complied, giving his hand a pat before she took her leave.

The door opened briefly, then shut tight, her footsteps reaching his ears in a decrescendo.

The instant they faded, Castle tugged at his restraints, the ropes burning his wrists as he struggled to work himself free. He tried slipping them through, but they were knotted tightly. She definitely didn't want him finding a way to escape. This was not good—_not good._

Castle found himself wondering in his desperation: what would Kate do? She was a quick thinker if he ever saw one; she would know exactly what to do in a situation such as this.

Physically, he could do nothing. He could propel himself forward and knock over the chair, but what would that do? That would only draw Becca's attention, which could very well lead to a precarious situation. If the woman was crazy enough to drug him, abduct him, and hold him hostage, she was certainly crazy enough to do something even more irrational.

Castle supposed there was only one thing to do—somehow woo Becca into freeing him from his restraints, lure her into a false sense of security. He had mastered his poker face over the years, especially after the practice he had developed from playing poker with Kate. Yes, he could act if he were happy to be here, then, when her guard was down, he would find a way out. He _was _ruggedly handsome and charming. Any one of his innumerable female fans were subject to swoon in his wake.

He was but interested in one woman, and one woman only.

_I want to get home to you as soon as I can, honey. God, I hope you're looking for me. If anyone can track me down, it's you. Put the pieces together, Kate. You'll know exactly what to do. Get Gates involved—Ryan and Esposito, too. Don't hide it, Kate. You don't have to hide anything anymore—especially not from me. _

In a moment, Becca returned, walking towards him carefully, light on her feet with a slight, delicate bounce in her step.

"Here you are."

A glass of water was lifted to his lips, and as the cool liquid trickled down his throat, Castle gave an involuntary sigh, and a soft laugh escaped from his captor. He suppressed the urge to shudder at such an eerie sound.

As he finished, Becca tore the glass from his lips, setting it down somewhere. He felt the tray in his lap being lifted, and a moment later, a spoon was raised to his lips.

"You need to eat something, Richard."

A spoonful of soup was shoved in his mouth, and he was forced to swallow. The taste was pleasant and ultimately familiar—New England chowder. It was authentic, to be precise. Although it was mere conjecture, Castle made a purely speculative deduction. He must not be too far from New York, for this type of soup could only be this decadent on the east coast. If he were indeed in Becca's house, there was reason to believe that they were in, well, New England. Although, there was always the chance that he was jumping to conclusions.

Castle turned his head away. "Um...would you mind untying my hands for a little while? If you really think I should eat, I would rather feed myself."

"But you're so groggy." Becca reasoned, stubborn.

"No, no, I'm...not." Castle insisted, anxiety flowing through his veins. "Please, if you would just let me eat..."

Becca emitted a heavy sigh, and Castle felt his wrists beginning to become untied. Finally, the ropes loosened to the point that Castle could freely move his hands, and he released a sigh, purely of his relief. The bowl was then placed in his lap, and Castle took the liberty of resuming his meager feast.

He could only hope that Becca decided against spiking this meal she had prepared for him.

"Good?" her voice queried.

Castle hummed in response, engrossed in the soup he was eating. It _was _good, he had to admit.

"After you eat, you should get some sleep. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow." Becca mentioned.

Castle paused, nearly choking on his mouthful.

_What does she mean? _

"O-oh, really?" he stammered, his voice low. "Doing what?"

"Let's not dwell on that now, Richard."

_But we must. _

"A-all right. Whatever you say."

"I'm glad you understand." she said softly, and he was certain that she was smiling.

The moment Castle finished eating, the bowl was pulled away from him, plucked out of his grasp just as quickly as it had arrived there.

"I'll take that from you."

With that, she was gone again, and Castle used this opportunity to launch a frantic search for his phone, patting and rummaging through all of his pockets. Just as he had expected, it was nowhere to be found.

"Damn it." Castle sharply swore under his breath, mouthing a few more choice words before leaning back in his seat in his frustration.

He scrubbed his forehead with his hand, huffing with another curse. There was no way he could get in touch with his wife now. He was in deep, deep—

_Wait. _

Something else was missing in action, something nearly as valuable. The book—it was gone. Nikki was gone, and he had a feeling he knew exactly who currently had it in their possession. The more unsettling fact, he should remind himself, was that he had been frisked, which was a much less appealing prospect than being frisked by Kate during their rougher moments of intimacy.

"You wouldn't be looking for this, would you?"

Castle's head snapped upwards, and he darted his gaze to the door. Light soon flooded into the room, and Becca stood in the doorway, a sickening look of satisfaction slapped across her face. In her hand, loosely dangling in her fingertips, was the book.

* * *

Martha descended the steps, startled to find Kate's silhouette slumped over the kitchen counter. An empty glass was at her side, a whiskey bottle within arm's reach. Her mother-in-law observed in a concerned silence as Kate poured a shot for herself, tossing back the drink with a breakneck speed before slamming the glass down on the counter with a _clink. _

As Kate began to pour another, Martha hastened her approach.

"It's a little early in the morning for that, isn't it, Katherine?" she mentioned with a laugh.

The detective started and spun around, her disheveled locks of hair swaying with the momentum. Her eyes were like saucers, her mouth hanging open in a suspended state.

"God, Martha, what are you...I-I didn't hear you come down." Kate breathed, her hands trembling in her excitement. "I thought you were asleep."

"Goodness, I didn't mean to frighten you, dear." Martha uttered softly, shuffling towards her daughter-in-law. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

Kate chewed her lower lip, glancing over her shoulder in her trepidation. She turned back to face Martha, who had made her way closer, her expression reflecting her deep amount of concern.

"I couldn't sleep." Kate confessed, leaning back against the counter for support, as if she were unsteady on her feet.

Martha then asked the inevitable question, one which she had been dreading but expecting. Really, she should have been prepared for this.

"Where's Richard?"

Kate fell silent, ducking her head in her evident distress. As her mother-in-law perceived her grief, the elder woman's face drained of all color, her blue eyes an indication of her overwhelming horror.


	5. Chapter 5

_Kate found herself being propelled toward the kitchen the moment she slammed the door to the loft shut. There was one thing in particular that she needed at this moment in time. An insatiable thrumming was very much roused in her veins now, and there was only one remedy. She needed something to numb the pain she felt, to drown her sorrows and force them down to the deepest recesses of her body. _

_She splayed a hand over the cabinets, gliding her fingertips over the surface before she finally arrived at her destination. At last, she had the bottle in her grasp, working her grip down the smooth neck. Kate reached for a glass from the shelf, plucking it from its resting place without forethought. She made a retreat to the island, popping the cap off of the whiskey bottle and, with a trembling hand, nearly missed the glass as she poured herself a shot. _

_Kate downed the alcohol, tossing her head back and allowing the whiskey to cascade down her throat. Her senses came alive, just for an instant, before she shuddered, immediately feeling her pain beginning to dwindle. She took another—and then another. The alcohol brought her such comfort during this time of grief, although she supposed it was all in her blood. Her father had turned to drinking after the loss of her mother. Naturally, it would be in her nature to also find similar ways of coping, taking directly after her flesh and blood._

_But she had _not_ lost her husband. No, she refused to accept it as even a remote possibility. Castle _was_ alive, and he was well. It would only be a matter of time before she saw this to be true with her own eyes._

_Now, however, Kate could only focus on one thing—the temptation of this heavenly concoction she held gingerly in her hands._

* * *

She had to get back to the precinct now, and she needed to somehow ease herself into forgetting about the events that had occurred the night before—preferably sooner rather than later. Luckily, work had always been what Kate had been able to fall back on, in case she ever needed to take something off her mind.

Breaking the harrowing news to her mother-in-law had not been easy for the detective, just as she had expected. Martha had, at first, appeared to take it remarkably well, but as Kate continued in recounting all that had happened within just the past hours, both of the women quickly began to fall apart, soon finding themselves hugging one another while they tried their hardest to console one another—but they were both so completely inconsolable.

Kate's emotions were so erratic and unpredictable, the detective even considered not reporting to work today—not to mention the fact that she was could feel the mild but lingering the effects of last night's binge. It _was _a Saturday, after all. Ultimately, however, she had come to the decision that the more time she spent at the precinct, the greater the chance she had at bringing her husband home. So, she made the difficult decision to push through the pain, no matter how crippling it was. The more she pondered it, the more she realized that it wasn't so difficult at all. This was the only way she could possibly bring Castle back into her life, and she had gained plenty of practice hiding her true emotions over the years. Why should this be any different?

The moment Kate stepped out on to the street, she was pounced upon. Blinding flashes obscured her vision, and a wall of photographers and paparazzi soon crowded all around her, inhibiting her from making a hasty escape.

"Mrs. Castle!" screeched one of the paparazzi.

"Detective Beckett!" another cried.

"Are the rumors true?" the former inquired, extending a microphone with the hopes that the wife of the famed, missing author would release a statement.

Kate's face flushed crimson, heat suffusing through her cheeks. There was no way she could have fathomed how utterly awful and heartbreaking a situation like this would truly be, but she supposed she should have been expecting it all along.

She initiated a hasty apology. "I-I...I won't be making a comment on that question at this time. I'm sorry."

"Mrs. Castle, do you fear for your husband's safety?"

_God, they're relentless._

"Are you making any progress in the manhunt for the person who abducted Richard Castle?"

_Do _not_ cry. Don't you _dare_ cry._

"Do you believe that Mr. Castle is in danger, Detective?"

_It's coming. You can feel it coming on, can't you? _

"Can you confirm that author Richard Castle, your husband, is being held captive somewhere by this mystery abductor?"

That was it.

"I'm sorry, I won't be answering any questions. Please excuse me."

Kate quickly backed away from the swarming paparazzi, seeking refuge once again inside the building from which she had just emerged, her grief stricken sobs the sole sound to be heard inside.

By the time she staggered back into the loft, she had fallen apart completely, her chest heaving with hiccups in her distraught sorrow.

She soon found herself curled up once again in their lonely, empty bed, decidedly lacking the one person in the world Kate desired to be embracing most. His side of the bed was still neatly made, the covers tucked with such attention to detail, immaculate in nature. The sheets hardly ever remained tidy for long after they arrived home, for the moment she and her beloved hit the mattress, they often had a habit of growing frenzied and ravenous rather quickly, or would toss and turn until they found that sweet spot of comfort that would lead them to drift off almost instantly. Kate had no heart to venture over to husband's side of their bed, and she never would without his consent, now that he was missing. It just felt wrong to her. Yes, there had been many a night when she had joined him on his side of the bed, relishing the time she spent snuggled up to against him. Cuddly Castle was one of her favorite Castles, after all.

After a long, sustained period of releasing her built-up sorrow into her own pillow, Kate finally gave in, wandering over to Castle's side of the bed and burying her face in his pillow, taking in his essence in one deep inhale. She found his familiar, pleasant scent to be oddly comforting; although he was gone, she felt as if his presence was somehow still very much with her. Kate let out a shaky sob, her crying muffled and concealed from the outside world.

Kate closed her eyes. Now, it was just the two of them—Rick and Kate, and no one else.

* * *

Kate sat, curled into the couch, frozen in place, her face void of all emotion. She stared blankly ahead for a long time, only drawing herself out of her trance when she sensed Martha settle beside her.

"What am I going to tell her?" Kate spoke at last.

Martha sighed, gently resting a hand on her daughter-in-law's knee. "The truth, Katherine—that's all we can do. Alexis is a big girl, although Richard may say otherwise."

Kate laughed softly; it was the first time she had laughed in what felt like forever—maybe because the source of the majority of the joy she experienced in her life came from her husband.

"What did you tell her on the phone?" Martha inquired.

"I told her that we had to talk, but that it would be easier in person." Kate replied, shifting positions on the sofa to come to face her mother-in-law. "Now, I'm not so sure that's true."

Martha reached for Kate's hand, giving it a squeeze to illustrate her support.

"We _will _find him, Martha." Kate professed, her voice filled with uncertainty.

If this was evident in her tone, Martha paid it no mind, flashing the visibly guilt-ridden detective a slight smile.

"I know we will, Katherine." she concurred, locking gazes with Kate. "If anyone can do it, it's you."

Kate matched her mother-in-law's smile, drawing Martha in for an embrace. She really could see from where Castle got his optimism, his fierce loyalty. All of those traits—they had come from somewhere, and the source was right here.

Feeling her eyes beginning to pool with moisture, Kate broke the hug somewhat prematurely, straightening her posture and facing forward once more. Martha did the same, mimicking her nearly down to the last detail, nonchalantly swiping at a stubborn tear that had begun to roll down her cheek.

The door to the loft abruptly burst open, revealing Alexis standing in the doorway, her freckled face ruddy with distress. Her bright eyes, a sea of blue, ironically flared with rage. A storm was brewing, and Kate instinctively rose to her feet.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Alexis demanded, taking several steps forward, with a purpose.

"Alexis, I-I...h-how did you hear?" Kate stammered, struggling to keep back her emotion from pouring out, her composure crumbling away and breaking like a dam.

"You wanna know how I found out—how I found out that my father is _missing _without a trace?" Alexis retorted fiercely, her fists clenched at her sides.

"W-well—" Kate stuttered, instantly being cut off by her furious step-daughter.

"I saw a report about it on the news." Alexis snapped. "Some way to find out about it, huh?"

"Alexis, I am sorry." Kate spoke, enunciating each syllable slowly and carefully. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I'm sorry for...everything. I just didn't know if you could handle it."

"Didn't know if I could _handle _it?" Alexis echoed, eyes like daggers. "How do you think it feels to be the last to know about all this?" she went on, throwing her hands up in the air. "The whole damn country probably knows by now! What gives you the right to keep something like that from me?"

Kate finally managed to get a word in. "Alexis, I care about you, just like your dad does. I just didn't want to—"

"You don't have to protect me." Alexis snapped.

"Alexis..." Martha intervened, bringing herself to stand and swiftly approaching her granddaughter.

"No, Gram." Alexis growled, darting her fiery glare for a brief moment to her grandmother before directing it back to Kate. "You are _not _my mother, so what do you think gives you the right to treat me like a child?"

A pain, deep and agonizing, jolted through Kate's body, lodging itself deep within her heart. The young woman's words hurt her more than she ever could have fathomed, stung more terribly than she ever could have thought possible. She swallowed hard, brown eyes glimmering with tears.

Alexis dropped her arms to her sides, all three women breathing heavily and erratically in their distress.

The youngest was the first to speak again. "J-just...don't try to say anything to me. I need some time to let this all sink in."

And with that, she turned and walked briskly out the door, leaving just as quickly as she came. As the door shut behind her, Martha turned her attention to Kate, who stood, posture stiff and locked in her shock.

"Darling, she didn't mean any of that." Martha placated, taking a step toward Kate. "She's just a _very _outspoken young lady, and a very upset one at that."

Kate slowly returned to reality, shaking herself from her trance-like state before taking a step forward and making a motion toward the door.

She loved Castle just as much as Alexis did, and she would be damned if she let his daughter even begin to think that she wasn't doing everything in her power to bring him back into their lives.

"Where are you going?" her mother-in-law queried.

Kate glanced over her shoulder. "I'm going to find the bitch who caused this whole mess." the detective stated flatly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It had all happened so quickly. In a flash, she was gone, then back in an instant—like a demented jack-in-the-box.

Now, she was standing again in the doorway, still clutching his book in her hand. Such a piece of literature had no way to defend itself, and the book possessed no consciousness or thought that may provide a warning as to its impending doom.

The flick of the lighter hit his ears, a tiny _click_; his heart jolted in his chest. The novel was presently lit on fire. As the flame began to eat its way up the dust jacket, creeping up in flares as it was just beginning to singe the pages, the spine binding said pages together, Castle felt his heart beat involuntarily quicker. Just seconds ago, it was faltering. Now, in such stark contrast, it was racing.

"Wh-what're you doing, Becca?" he ventured, swallowing hard.

"Taking care of business, Richard." she replied vaguely. "It needed to be done."

"T-taking care of business?" Castle inquired further, noticing himself becoming slightly riled up. "By burning my book?"

"By being rid of _her."_ Becca clarified dryly, referring to Nikki as if she were a bitter taste in her mouth, tossing the book to his feet as the pages began to curl, blackening with ash.

Castle staggered back out of instinct, purely an involuntary reaction to the burning book at his feet.

"As an author, I'm sure you've read _Fahrenheit 451." _Becca continued, gaining his attention and frantic, harried eyes.

"Of course," he choked out, nodding slowly.

Becca smiled, and a chill raced through his veins.

"The temperature at which books burn," she mused in a scarcely audible tone, reciting the novel's tagline. "Correct?" She added on to this with an eerie smile.  
Castle swallowed the enormous lump in his throat, summoning his courage. "Y-yes."

Something in her eyes was beyond wild, unhinged. It sent a pang of distress through his whole body, from his head to his toes. Never before had he witnessed a sight so unsettling. All at once, he recognized the presence of all of her ulterior motives that she had in store. He felt like curling up in a ball and never again facing the light of day.

So, she evidently had a distaste for the character of Nikki Heat. His years of detective work alongside his partner gave him the desire to seek out much more information than just this, however. He repeatedly asked himself the same questions, over and over.

Why did she have such an aversion to the _Nikki Heat _series, anyway? Why was he here in the first place? How long would be remain trapped here—wherever _here _was?

Of course, he had many more questions than just these select few, but his breath too shallow at the moment to ask any of them—not to mention the fact that he was far too afraid of the possible consequences.

"Mr. Castle, is there something that you want more than anything else?" Becca inquired vaguely, shutting the door and strolling into the darkness of the room.

_What a question! Well, namely, to get away from you._

Curtains were parted, just for a moment; the paleness of the sky led Castle to deduce that the dawn would be breaking sooner rather than later. Darkness filled the room again a second later.

"I-I...I suppose so." was his hesitant response.

Becca approached, and Castle could barely make out a faint smile. She was so close to him now that he could _feel _her beside him—that strange feeling one has when they stand next to someone. Would claustrophobia be the appropriate word for a sensation such as this?

_Damn your writer's brain._

"That's...good. It's nice to have something to strive for—to live for. Isn't it?"

Castle felt himself jolt as a hand was laid upon his shoulder, every muscle from there through his entire body locking with tension, like a domino effect.

"I guess that's true," he concurred, craning his neck slightly to glance behind him, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of her form.

He hated having his back to her.

"Maybe you can relate, then, Richard." Becca murmured. "Oh, you're so tense. Is there something I can—"

"No," Castle interjected hastily, jerking beneath her hands as he felt her making a motion to massage them.

Becca allowed her hands to linger in their place for a few more seconds before withdrawing them slowly, and Castle sensed his muscles beginning to loosen as he lowered his defenses, if only for a moment.

The woman behind him appeared to pay no mind to his reaction, or if she did, she didn't speak of it. Castle was, at the very least, thankful for this.

"As I was saying," Becca uttered, stepping lightly as she maneuvered her way around the chair in which he was settled, "there's something I...well, there's something I need to ask of you."

"And that is?" Castle ventured.

"I've thought about this for a long time, Mr. Castle. Ever since you created..._her." _Becca continued with the utmost vagueness.

Castle furrowed his brow, frowning. "I'm sorry—of _whom _are you speaking, exactly?"

"Detective Heat, of course." Becca said dryly. "Clearly, you don't understand. I know I'm not asking too much of you. After all, you're Richard Castle."

"No, I really _don't_ understand." he admitted, vexed as ever.

"Don't you see, Mr. Castle?"

"No!"

_"You _took Derrick's life!" his captor exclaimed accusingly.

Castle was silent for a moment before he ventured, "Storm? All this is about Derrick _Storm?"_

"So, as the age-old adage goes, Mr. Castle," Becca whispered, her face inching closer to his, "a life for a life."

He could see her eyes in the darkness, just at the end of his nose. The blood in his veins became ice, freezing just as solidly. Her breath, growing heavy with her excitement, fanned over his face, her eyes livid.

She wasn't threatening to kill_ him_—was she?

Castle swallowed hard, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "Now, we can talk about this..."

"There's nothing to talk about." Becca snapped.

"W-well, then, whose life would you be taking in return?" Castle asked in a whimper, terrified.

His hands were no longer literally tied, but figuratively, they were. And very much so.

A brief titter spilled from her lips, as if it was her suspicion that he actually believed she wanted to murder him. She seemed amused in the most sick and twisted of ways as she clarified, "Nikki Heat, of course."

Castle could finally breathe again.

_Thank God._

After a moment, the man mentioned, "B-but...Derrick, he's alive and well now."

"How can I trust you, Richard? You murdered him once. You can murder him again." Becca reasoned.

"I promise you, that's not—"

"I need to know that your intentions are pure. You have to prove your loyalty—to both Derrick and me." the woman before him insisted, her face taking on an entirely new level of crazy.

"Becca, Derrick isn't an actual person. You do realize that, don't you?"

"Well, then, you should have no trouble taking care of Nikki, now, should you? After all, they're not real."

Castle paused, all at once at a loss for words. His lack of words alerted his captor to the truth, that which he desperately wished to avoid revealing to her.

Her pale face grew wise. "She _is _fictional...isn't she, Mr. Castle?"

"Of course she is." he said quickly.

_You're living dangerously, you terrible liar, you._

If Becca was able to call him on his bluff, she said nothing. Instead, she added, "It's clear to me that Nikki is the reason for Derrick's demise."

"No, that's not—"

"Then how do you explain your actions, Mr. Castle?" Becca cross-examined, unwilling to cease her interrogation.

"You have to believe me, I killed off Derrick Storm before we even met!" Castle blurted, biting his tongue as the words spilled from his mouth.

"You and me?" Becca queried, a new expression forming on her face—one of puzzlement.

"N-no," Castle muttered hastily, attempting to correct his wrongdoing, his utter mistake, "someone else."

"...someone...else. That's what I thought."

"One person in particular was the inspiration for her—yes."

Becca paid no mind to his further explanation.

"Mr. Storm deserves justice, Mr. Castle. I'm sure Detective Heat, of all people, would agree, don't you think? I mean, delivering justice where it's due is what she lives for. You created her to do just that."

"I-I...I suppose so."

"Then, it's decided. At eight A.M. sharp, you and I will get down to business." the woman resolved, strolling over to the chair and beginning to untie the restraints at his ankles.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, although he wasn't complaining. It would be nice to be able to be mobile again.

"Shh. In room opposite this one, you will find a small bedroom. Feel free to make use of it. At the end of the hallway is a guest bathroom, which I'm sure you also have to use by now. At the opposite end of the hall, you'll see a door. It _will_ be locked. Please don't try to open it—not that you would be able to if you tried."

After being debriefed on the code of conduct, Castle found his feet freed again, and he slowly came to stand, stretching the kinks and knots out of his back.

He could have tried to overtake his captor at this moment, as it was a perfect opportunity—perhaps the best opportunity he would have at making a getaway. But, as he glanced down, he saw the holster at her waist, and momentarily decided against doing anything stupid, or anything that might provoke this psychotic woman to act out of rage or self-defense.

He made use of the facilities she had offered, and while he was doing so, she took her leave, disappearing behind the door he was given strict orders not to try and pry open. Castle wasn't entirely sure if this woman had a reputation for making idle threats, but it wasn't any of his business to find out.

Castle did some exploring in the guest bedroom, although there was really nothing of interest. His phone was gone, and he had no way to contact anyone on the outside. The windows of the room were boarded shut, possibly because Becca had been planning this little charade quite some time in advance. Not even Morse code would do him any good now.

The clock on the bedside table indicated that it was half past five, and he Castle found himself instantly wondering if Kate would actually report to work on a Saturday morning. He smiled—for the first time in what felt like forever. Just thinking of his wife could bring a smile to his face, even in the darkest and most hopeless of times.

What was she doing right now, as he was pondering about her? Was she, too, thinking about him? Knowing how fiercely loyal a person Kate was, he assumed that she was going to the ends of the earth to find him, and there was no other person he would rather have on his side.

Just to hold her in his arms, right at this moment, would be enough to sustain him, to get him through all of this. No, that wasn't completely true. Just the mere _thought_ of her kept him going.

"I'm sorry, honey." he whispered to himself, not meaning to say it aloud.

He could only hope she would keep herself safe. This Becca had a passionate hatred for the detective that was based off of his wife. With any luck, this distaste wouldn't carry over to his Kate.

He would be willing to do anything in his power to keep that from happening.


End file.
